


The Four Times Peter Quill Really Regrets Having Friends (And the One Time He's Too Desperate To Care)

by orangecrow



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5 Things, Accidental Voyeurism, Aliens, Anonymous Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Crack, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 13:25:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2069919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangecrow/pseuds/orangecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Learning to live with his new friends is an adjustment for Peter Quill, especially when he learns that they're all massive cockblocks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Four Times Peter Quill Really Regrets Having Friends (And the One Time He's Too Desperate To Care)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Четыре раза, когда Питер Квилл вправду жалел, что у него есть друзья (и один раз, когда он слишком отчаялся, чтобы обращать на что-то внимание)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2549627) by [MouseGemini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MouseGemini/pseuds/MouseGemini)



> This is the product of there not being enough NSFW fic for GotG yet. Just doing my part. It started out with a little bit of headcanon and sort of spiraled out of control, so I hope it's readable. Basically, Peter Quill's just a poor, unfortunate, sexually flexible man with some new, terrible roommates whom he both loves and hates at the same time. Mainly, this is just gross, NSFW crack. This is based solely on one viewing of the 2014 film, so beware film spoilers, and forgive any grievous errors in comic continuity (I'm more of an X-Men fan, what can I say?).
> 
> Warnings(?) for attempted sex with both men and women. I didn't feel like an actual relationship tag was necessary, however. Please correct me if I'm wrong! 
> 
> Unbetad, so forgive any mistakes I made getting this thing out quickly. I'm sorry it's so weird, but enjoy!

1\. Drax

They'd made it to some far-off, podunk quadrant before running out of fuel. It'd taken about five days, and, coincidentally, five days seemed to be just about how long they all could tolerate one another in the tight confines of the ship before their raw edges began to bleed out all the crazy.

Starting out, it'd been rocky. Peter guessed that was to be expected with people you brand friend before staring death in its ugly, blue face.

So, upon landing, they collectively and diplomatically agreed in the midst of a very loud argument to take a couple of days to let off some of the steam that had built up in the short time the group had been together. Delicious, questionably-sourced booze appeared just the thing to cure their ailments and Peter decides to do his part and down a dose for the safety of those around him.

By the first day's close, he already feels a million times better. He doesn't even complain when he notices Rocket's finished off the last of the Cheesy Squids and put the empty box back into the cluttered kitchenette's pantry. Though, that may also be because Peter had noticed the raccoon mumbling about a bounty when he returned for the evening, and Peter knows better than to bite the hand that feeds him right before it doles out a few more sweet, sweet credits.

Two more days fly past, and all's right with the world by Peter Quill's standards. The ship's fully fueled, his tab's been paid off with the small bounty they'd collected on some small-time crook, and Peter's only got one more box on his list left to tick.

"Aw, shit, I'm sorry," he slurs apologetically. "I don't mean, like, you're a box. That's just rude." He shakes his head and nearly gets a nose full of green hair in the process.

The girl he's dancing all up on turns her head to give him a sidelong look, pupilless eyes looking confused. Peter wonders if maybe they just always look that way.

"What!?" She shouts over the din of shitty music.

"Nothing," he shouts back. "Hey, you wanna get out of here?" And that gets her attention.

He starts to lead her back toward the ship before he realizes that it's a little less private than he's used to. It's hard to focus on alternative options, though, with her hands all over him, stroking up and down his arms and pressing her tits into his back as they stumble further down the street.

Finally, they wind up in a dim alleyway, and Peter briefly considers asking her if she'd take them to her place. Turning, he does finally get a good look at her before she pushes him up against the wall. She's pretty, even outside the club lights, probably more so. Petite and orange-skinned, her shoulders and the exposed span of her back are covered in dark, ridged worls. Peter leans down to taste one, tongue curiously exploring the different textures between neck and shoulder, as she presses him back into the gritty brick, thigh pressing insistently against his interested cock. Peter quickly decides that the alley is at least classier than the dive they'd come from.

When the woman scrapes a set of very sharp talons down his back, Peter hisses and prays she's not slashed up his last clean shirt. He drags his teeth along her jawline in retaliation, but she doesn't seem to mind by the way she's leading his hand up under her own shirt so he can skim his fingers along the soft curve of her breasts.

Peter pants and thumbs at a nipple, his hips reflexively grinding against the woman's thigh. She moans loudly in return, but not loudly enough to drown out the sound of Drax's booming voice.

"Quill?"

Groaning, and not in the fun way, Peter summons up the effort to remove his face from his companion's neck in order to glower at his friend. For propriety's sake, he also frees his hand from the girl's cleavage. He swears he can hear his dick curse in protest.

"She is much more attractive than the last woman you mentioned bedding," the Destroyer exclaims, frank. "It is good to see you do not prioritize tentacles in a potential mate."

The girl makes a noise of disgust and quickly rips herself from Peter's front. The ridges along her skin go spiny and flushed with anger as she pulls her shirt back into place.

"Hey! No, baby. C'mon! That was one time!" Peter explains frantically, but she's already shouldering her way past Drax, who looks unfazed by the proceedings, leaving Peter hard and disheveled against the alley wall.

His new roommate is target number one on his dick's hit list now.

Except - shit, no. That came out wrong.

  
2\. Rocket

"Professor Kr'et, it's so big!"

It physically hurts Peter to not roll his eyes. The dialogue in these things is always the worst, but he's lost the remote again, so he'll just have to endure a little overblown acting for the time being. It's a small price to pay for the promise of relief from blue balls.

Indulgently, the explorer traces the pads of his fingers across the sensitive head of his cock, fully intent on drawing this one out. Who the hell knows when he'll get the chance to again.

He gathers the slickness from the head of his cock across his fingers before languidly wrapping his hand around the shaft. Involuntarily, his toes curl and his hips hitch a bit in lazy delight before he starts up a slow rhythm, pausing only to shuck his boxers off the whole way.

Peter keeps one eye on the screen, where a young-ish looking (but fuck, he doesn't know) woman in a pleated skirt is sucking on an improbably sized green dick. Skrull Schoolgirl Sluts 9 wasn't his first choice - hell, it hadn't even been his sixteenth choice - but ever since his ship became home to three more passengers and a houseplant, he'd learned quickly that whatever vid file popped up first was the one you watched if you wanted to keep your sanity intact. And honestly? As long as he didn't have to stare at the guy in the video's chin, he thinks he'll be able to muscle through it.

He lets his head fall back to softly hit the wall of his bunk, eyes slipping half-shut when he gives that spot right under the head of his dick a little extra attention. Precum drools across his knuckles and it's all Peter can do not to writhe across his sheets, basking in the luxury of a good, slow jerk. If the way he's considering pinching his own nipples is any indication, it's been too long.

A shrill squeal draws the adventurer's attention back to the video. The "schoolgirl," now splayed across the desk appears to be either immensely enjoying her detention, or completely reconsidering her role in the adult film industry, Peter isn't sure which. Thoughtfully, he palms at his balls, fingers daring to ghost lower for a moment before returning to his cock.

"Oof, now that's just wrong."

Letting out a strangled yelp, Peter comes this close to squeezing down too hard in his haste to cover himself. He manages to get his boxers halfway up and a blanket mostly over his lap, where it tents ridiculously in the middle.

"What the fuck, man!? Don't you knock?" His voice is too pitchy to sound overly threatening at the moment, not that Peter thinks that would deter Rocket, anyway. He stares at Rocket, wide-eyed, and the little shit doesn't even have the decency to back out of the room and leave Peter to his swiftly wilting pride.

"Nope," the raccoon answers shortly, and peers intently at the screen. "You humies are so weird." He shakes his furry head, offering no explanation into his observation. Peter boggles at him, unable to speak for a moment.

Rocket peers at the video for a minute longer, tail twitching once or twice, before he grimaces, tongue smacking disgustedly against needle-sharp teeth. "Yup, nope. You seriously into this shit?" He looks over his shoulder at Peter, jerking his thumb toward the screen. Automatically, the human shrugs, helpless. Rocket tuts at him.

"Hey, while I've got you here, we're out of Cheesy Squids."

  
3\. Gamora

Moments between Gamora and him always seemed to be the product of poor timing. At least, that what Peter Quill's been telling himself.

It sounds like a cop-out, even from him, but after their third near-kiss is interrupted by an irate antiques-slash-arms dealer in the middle of a gross diner, Peter's just about ready to chalk it up to bad luck and move on.

Besides, he's always been into the whole "will they, won't they?" Sam and Diane shtick - call him romantic. But he can work with that, totally. This time there are more aliens and explosions in the mix, but who's counting?

They go back and forth for weeks, seems like. It gets to the point where Rocket will gag anytime they look at one another for longer than a second, and Drax will make a blatant comment about how physically interested they appear to be in one another. Peter can live with it, mostly, but Gamora's eyes will go sharp every time before she storms away.

Peter gets it. Or he tries to, anyway. After several long years of getting ordered around under Thanos and Ronan, she probably wants every choice she makes to look as if it's her own, and only her own - especially while she's around her new friends. So Peter gives her plenty of room to work with, but that gap doesn't seem to close.

After a while, it's easy to just shrug it off. In all honesty, she's one of the best friends he's ever had, and it's easily the best relationship he's had with a woman since his mother - which, weird, but whatever. Gamora helps him get Rocket back when the raccoon tries to cheat at poker, ganging up on him after Drax quits because he's too literal to bluff very well. They're almost as good a team as Rocket and Groot when they're tracking down a bounty, so long as they don't wind up arguing and letting their mark slip away.

And even though it took a while to sink in, Peter's learned not to mess with her too much. He's seen her snap a man's neck with her thighs, after all. That, and he saw how she got back at Rocket for leaving fur in the shower.

Still, though, they have their moments, just the two of them in a firefight, where that spark will light back up, and Peter swears he can hear Marvin Gaye's angelic voice.

There's one time when their contact, a big boss mobster in a little corner of the galaxy, brings his daughter to their meeting place. It all goes just fine up until some space ninjas bust in and start shouting about money or something Peter's too stressed out to hear completely. So he grabs the contact's daughter - Evritte? Elelyn? Something weird like that - and books it out of there as fast as they can go just as soon as he sees Gamora covering the girl's father.

They run until they reach a better part of town. The buildings all look clean and new and unsuited to people like Peter. It's okay, though, because he's got the confidence of a nude emperor, and he struts them right on into a swanky hotel and gets them a room, playing the part of a newlywed couple until they can get upstairs and he can let his teammate know his location.

Peter manages that much, at least, before the girl has him pinned back on the plush sheets of the bed. Distractedly he notes how nice the clean bedding feels compared to his own before there's a warm, wet mouth on his own and a pair of very insistent hands on his belt.

"Woah, hey!" He tries to lift her away from him, but she's shockingly strong for her size. "You're awesome and all, but, like, we just met, and your father's kind of a scary guy, and I really like all of my limbs where they are, so..." Peter gulps in air while the girl pauses, hand poised at the waist of his pants.

"Oh, don't worry about Daddy. He won't find out. I promise," She assures him confidently. "Don't you think I'm pretty enough?" She asks when he hesitates further. She twirls a lock of silvery hair around a finger. "I mean, I'm no green goddess, but..." And Peter has the decency to make an indignant noise before she palms his cock and he decides it's a compliment to his partner, rather than an affront.

Voice wavering more than he'd like, he agrees. "Well, we do have time to kill." And she grins at him with a mouth full of sharp teeth before nodding heartily. He decides it's best to reroute the blowjob train for the time being.

Soft, milk-pale thighs wrap around his head shortly thereafter, clamping down around his ears and filling his head with the sound of his blood pounding. Peter agreeably laps at her wet folds. She squeals quietly when his nose bumps against her clit, and he focuses in before his body decides it might need oxygen in the near future.

The contact's daughter cards gently at his hair and rolls her hips forward to allow him a few gasping breaths before setting him back to work, writhing atop his face so violently that he has to steady her by the thighs. He can feel wetness across his face and isn't sure if it's from him or from her. He's just glad she's having a good time. Clearly, he's not lost his touch.

When the girl vaults off of him, the adventurer isn't sure what's going on. Dazed, he rolls onto one elbow, raggedly drawing in breath, only to see that Gamora's finally made it and is currently squaring off against his half-naked bedmate.

The silver-haired girl darts toward Gamora, fast as a viper, a wickedly curved dagger clenched in one fist. Gamora spins to the side, backing away to clear a shot at the other woman.

Peter's frozen until Gamora shouts, "Grab her tail, idiot!" And he leaps up, wiping his face off as he goes, and grabs for the appendage currently attempting to bash Gamora's gun from her grip.

It takes only a few moments from that point for Gamora to put the other girl out. She doesn't even look to see where the woman falls. Instead, she levels a judging gaze at Peter, who shrinks back defensively.

"Well I didn't know she had a tail," he insists petulantly.

Groaning, Gamora rubs at her forehead, working at a crease that's formed between the smooth green skin of her brow. "The contact is dead. I assume she was merely using him as a puppet for information until she assassinated her way through his clients." Her tone is clipped until something catches her eye and she steps into Peter's personal bubble. The human is immediately reminded of how inappropriately tight his pants are still as he stares into Gamora's face.

Abruptly, the green woman grabs him by the nose and yanks his mouth open, ignoring his noise of protest. "Mind control saliva," she mutters thoughtfully to herself, as if confirming a suspicion.

If Peter still held any wits about him, he'd shut his mouth when she lets him go. Instead, he supplies, "I don't think that's the only part of her that's mind-control."

Peter doubts it's entirely an accident that Gamora misses her first punch when their attacker tries to get back up, elbowing him in the solar plexus instead.

  
4\. Rocket... again.

It's been five months since the so-called "Guardians of the Galaxy" got together (Peter's been trying to get the name to stick), and in that time, Peter's gotten laid approximately zero times. Not that he's counting or anything.

Ever since the ship got a little more crowded, his only release has come at his own hand, and even then it's hurried and unsatisfying - in the shower while someone outside bitches about there being enough hot water.

Peter feels his luck changing, though. Either that, or it's the feeling of his inhibitions lowering, and at this point, it doesn't really matter.

Sandwiched between himself and a cargo crate is one of the local ship bay's resident mechanics. The man is young, dark-skinned, and slight. More importantly than that, though, is that he's interested. Call Peter Quill shameless, but right now? That's good enough for him.

The man had approached the crew shortly after they'd landed, curious about the ship's design. Peter had been more than happy to brag about his baby a little. Naturally, inquiries about the engine system had devolved into groping, and Peter hadn't even had a chance to launch into his "I don't normally do this kind of thing" speech.

It's a complete load of bullcrap, the speech, but it makes him feel a little better, somehow.

Peter kisses the man earnestly, hands knotted in the front of the mechanic's drab grey uniform. When he runs his tongue along the seam of Peter's lips, the adventurer lets him in. Groaning when he feels a hand grip at the back of his hair, Peter rocks forward and squeezes a handful of the man's ass.

Inside, Peter can feel those five months of frustration heating to a boil and threatening to bubble over. He figures he may have to win this one on false bravado and his rusty blowjob skills if things get out of hand too quickly.

The mechanic pulls away, panting something about the crate digging into his back, and Peter wonders if the whining sound he'd just heard had come from his own throat. "Come on," the local says, giving Peter a coy look, brown eyes bright beneath long lashes. "How about you take me on a tour, Mister... Starwars, was it?" The fingers looped in the collar of Peter's coat makes it hard for him to correct the man.

They barely make it inside, pawing at one another and blindly tripping into the common area of the ship. Peter's grateful it's deserted, but if the way the mechanic is aggressively pulling him down on top of him is any indication, Peter isn't really sure that that would stop them.

He settles between the darker man's splayed thighs and can practically hear himself vibrating out of his own skin as he rucks the man's shirt up and tastes the salty skin of his abdomen. The other man moans breathily before squirming down and shoving at Peter's pants. "Let's get these off."

Peter shimmies his hips agreeably. His cock's nearly soaked through the front of his underwear and he sighs happily as it's freed.

"Nice," the mechanic whistles. Peter grins until a warm hand wraps around his dick.

If he doesn't want to come too soon, he needs to focus. He starts distracting himself with the fastening on the other man's pants, but the man's clearly had some practice before. Every time Peter feels his fingertip dipping into his slit, he has to close his eyes and try not to make any embarrassing noises.

The whoosh of the cabin doors herald someone's return to the ship.

"Woah-ey!" Ignorant of the way the two figures on the couch stiffen, Rocket saunters into the room. "Didn't know you had company, Quill. You gonna introduce us?" The raccoon leers at the form prone beneath Peter.

"Dude, get lost," Peter urges, waving him away. Rocket's persistent, though.

"Hey, little lady. What's your name?" And Peter feels a little bad that he's not even asked yet. Hands splay across his chest and push until the human's sitting back on his heels.

"Yeah, I draw the line at animals. Not into that kinky shit," the mechanic explains as he rights his clothing. The look he levels at Rocket is pure distaste.

"No! That's-"

"Dude! That's a dude!" Rocket points out, like Peter hadn't just been planning on sucking the guy's dick.

"Have fun with your rodent," the man calls out over his shoulder as he leaves. Peter suddenly hopes he trips on his way down the gangplank.

Rockets's ears are pressed flat against his skull. His fur bristles up, and Peter can't see his eyes. Doesn't really need to, though. Wincing, he tucks himself awkwardly back into his pants before patting the spot next to him on the couch.

Rocket lifts his head, finally, and arches a skeptical brow at Peter. Resigned, Peter slips down to the floor next to the raccoon. With his cleaner hand, he reaches out cautiously and pets his friend behind the ears to a single half-hearted noise of complaint.

After a few moments, Rocket speaks. "That uniform... you weren't gonna let him work on your ship, were ya?"

Peter can't help the bark of laughter that escapes him. "No way, Chewbacca. I would never."

  
+1. Groot

This time, conditions are perfect. Peter's sure of it.

He'd pretty much kicked his roommates out of the ship for the night. As they'd left, he'd pressed who knows how many credits into their hands and told them they they should have a great time and under no circumstances should they return to the ship. He thinks he may have made up some excuse about an infestation of adorable multiplying parasites, but he's not really sure, at this point.

All he knows is that he's got a date with his hand, some freshly washed sheets, and a vibrator he'd discretely bought a couple of stops back. He'll be damned if he doesn't get to show them all a nice time.

So that's why he's splayed out on his bed, one leg hiked up as he works two lubed fingers into his ass. He moans indulgently and rubs his cheek into one of his pillows just to relish the softness against his skin. The sheets are cool against the hot flush covering his body, and it makes him shiver a little.

He knows it's been too long for this to last properly. He doesn't think he can even draw it out like he wants to, but he takes his time on the prep, squirming as he stretches the rim of his hole and drawing in a shuddery breath every time his wrist brushes against his balls. He can feel the muscles in his stomach quivering in a heady sort of exertion. It's already too good and all he wants is to just wiggle and fuck down on something and have this warm buzz of energy filling him forever.

Keening, he adds another finger, eager. It burns a little, but just being able to moan out loud seems to dull the ache as he scissors his fingers, stretching himself and barely avoiding hitting his prostate.

Peter's ready. He has to be. He kicks the tube of lube down the bed and reaches for the vibrator. It's purple and quite lifelike to someone used to living amongst aliens. The saleswoman had described all of its functions, but Peter can't be bothered to remember them now, and instead positions the head at his entrance.

Needy whimpers pour from his throat as he feeds the fake cock into himself, delighting in the tight fit. His own neglected dick leaks profusely against his belly, dark red against the pale of his stomach. Peter doesn't think he'll even have to touch it.

As soon as it's fully seated within him, the human cautiously turns the switch at the base of the toy and shouts. Electricity tingles in his extremities, and he lashes out with a foot before bracing against the mattress, toes clawing futilely against the bedding.

A light clattering makes him open his eyes. The tube of lube rocks on the desk where he'd kicked it. Next to it, Groot's flowerpot sirs, and Peter can feel his face prickling with heat at the thought of the little twig being able to see him doing this. He'd forgotten that Rocket had put the pot there, claiming the light was best in Peter's room.

An insistent pulse makes Peter decide he doesn't care, though. He pants and works his hips, rhythm quickly going from languid to stuttering. Plaintive noises and half-formed pleading slips through his lips, directed at nobody, as he reaches the edge.

With one firm rock of his hips, the vibrator presses firmly against his prostate, and he's gone. Ringing fills his ears as he chokes on a relieved scream, whole body alight.

When the white in his vision finally clears, he shuts the vibe off. He's already oversensitive and raw and deliriously happy. He's got his own come next to his mouth and he wipes lazily at it with the back of his hand.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a movement atop the desk.

He can barely turn his head to face the innocent-looking flowerpot. "Not one word about this, Groot," he intones, voice rough. And then he chuckles to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments/kudos if you enjoyed it!


End file.
